


Yuri On Ice snippets

by northern



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Gen, Random word generator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-18 19:43:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11297541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northern/pseuds/northern
Summary: I am using a random word generator. Content notes above each chapter.





	1. Yuri Plisetsky is a prickly cat

**Author's Note:**

> The words for this one were: sacramentary, stipple, carom (yes, my random word generator is pretentious). A conversation between Yuri and Yuuri, in which Yuri is prickly and doesn't really want to ask for help, but Yuuri keeps trying.

He made a mistake, asking Katsudon.

"You're so young," he smiled, and "It will come in time."

Yuri was no stranger to hard work and practice, but he was a world champion now, a Grand Prix gold medalist. That had to count for something. It should mean that he was an adult, with an adult's control of his feelings. So why couldn't he capture and channel the Agape feeling again, the way he'd been able to in Japan, if just for a few moments?

He needed that expression. His skating had been beautiful with it; he'd seen it on the stealthily recorded video one of those insufferable kids had thrust on him after the practice, but then he had never been able to perform it again with that emotion shining through him. It had all been cold reflections of that original, elusive core. He didn't even have the stupid video to look at and analyze.

"Never mind," Yuri said. "I don't need it."

Katsudon hemmed and hawed while staring behind his stupid glasses. Yuri looked at his phone instead, turning away. He had 54 new likes on his most recent picture of a beautiful cat he'd seen a few times on the stone fence by the neighboring apartment building. It hadn't let him pet it yet, but it might if he kept trying. He had a pinprick of red on his hand from his latest attempt.

"If… if it's something you want," Katsudon said quietly, "we're all here now, at the same rink. We have a little time. Victor can coach you again."

Yuri turned back around. "I don't need his help, or yours. You're old. Why haven't you retired yet?"

"We could do it together. You could give me pointers on my quads. You like that." Katsudon was smiling, ignoring Yuri's words.

"Only because you're so bad at them," Yuri said. For some reason, he felt very uncomfortable. He'd rather get back to practice or take a nap. One of those. He put his phone back in the pocket of his hoodie and brushed his hair behind his ear. "Why do you want to train together?" he asked.

"No special reason," Katsudon said, still smiling a little. "Maybe I think you'll rub off on me, and I'll have greater chances of winning this year."

Yuri scoffed.

"Or maybe…" Katsudon fiddled with his glasses. "Maybe I think that training together, you and I and Victor, to capture an emotion is a good way to grow closer. To grow together. It could help us all become better."

Yuri felt his lips quirk in a smile at how dorky Katsudon sounded, and quickly pressed them together so it wouldn't look like he approved or anything.

"Fine," he said, mostly to put an end to the conversation. "We can train some together. But I'm not sharing my choreography."

"No one is asking you to share anything you don't want to," Katsudon said.

The uncomfortable feeling was growing. "I need to go stretch," Yuri mumbled. He turned and left, not waiting for any meaningless reply. Walking past the bleachers, he caught himself wondering if Katsudon would shout something after him. He quickly put his headphones on, just in case.


	2. Victor is bad at cooking. We knew this.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek/Yuri are invited to dinner at Yuuri's and Victor's house. It doesn't go so well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> words: Diligently, flammable, urgency

Otabek Altin isn't the only person in Yuri's life – he knows that, but sometimes it would be a little fucking easier if Victor and Yuuri weren't so keen on playing parents. Currently, Otabek is sitting very upright on the couch in the couple's living room. Yuri is slouching against the other corner so hard that his tracksuit jacket is all bunched up over his stomach and riding up in the back. He is thumbing through his phone, and Otabek wishes he could do the same, but Yuuri is sitting in the easychair on the other side of the table, eyes shining with desire to get to know each other "as a family".

"You DJ, don't you?" Yuuri asks. It's the most recent of many questions that Otabek has answered only with 'yes' or 'no' and there is a note of bewilderment creeping into Yuuri's tone of voice.

"Yes," Otabek answers, silently hoping that Victor will stick his head out of the kitchen to shout that dinner is ready.

"So…" Yuuri flounders.

Yuri sighs loudly and twists in his seat so he's leaning more on the armrest. That means his feet are now touching Otabek's thigh.

Yuuri stops trying to think of another question and stares at them instead, a smug smile growing on his face. Otabek can feel his cheeks heat up. _Anywhere but here, anything but this_ , he thinks.

There is a shout from the kitchen, and a noise that sounds like someone dropped a heavy pan in the sink.

"Yuuri!" Victor shouts. "Yuuri, help!"

"Oh, uh," Yuuri says, startled and looking toward the kitchen as if he's trying to see through the wall.

"Wait," Yuri suddenly says, straightening up. "Is something… burning?"

Yuuri's eyes widen. "Oh!" he says and gets up.

"Yuuuuuri!" Victor calls again. He doesn't sound happy.

Otabek and Yuri stay on the couch, looking at each other as Yuuri rushes to the kitchen. Yuri has his impassive face on, seemingly prepared to scroll through Instagram through a house fire if needed, but Otabek knows he's curious.

"Want to go see what he burned?" he asks.

One corner of Yuri's mouth curves up. "I hope it's their whole kitchen," he says. "Then we could go back to your place already."

Otabek's 'place' is little more than a hotel room – a one room apartment he's rented for six months while he's training here – but it does sound a lot better than staying. They could order in. "Let's see the damage," he says and gets up.

Yuri makes him pull him up. It might be an excuse to touch, because Yuri keeps his hand in Otabek's as they walk toward the sound of Japanese swearing.

Yuuri is scrubbing out a pot under running water and there is no actual fire to be seen, to Otabek's disappointment. It does smell a bit like smoke, though.

"Oh look!" Victor shouts from beside Yuuri. He is wearing a ridiculous apron with some kind of happy bunnies on. The bunnies might be dancing. It's distracting.

"They're holding hands!"

Otabek twitches, but Yuri doesn't let go of his hand. Instead he twists them both behind his own back. It's even more awkward like that, because it means Otabek is basically embracing Yuri in his pseudo parents' kitchen, but he pretends it's nothing. It _is_ nothing. They should be able to do anything they want to.

"We're leaving," Yuri says. "We're hungry."

"Oh no!" Victor exclaims. "I can start over! I know what went wrong now – or we could go out!"

Yuuri scrubs the pot furiously and does not say anything. Otabek wonders if it's possible this evening could get more awkward.

"See you at practice," Yuri says and turns away, pulling Otabek after him.

"Do you need condoms?" Victor calls after them. Otabek suddenly discovers a great need to get the fuck out of this house, and Yuri seems to be of a similar mind. "Remember to always use condoms!" they hear as they pick up the pace.

Yuri tugs them out the door and slams it behind them. "Fucking shut up," he bites out, his face red.

Otabek wonders if it would be more or less awkward to remove his hand from Yuri's death grip, but in the end he says nothing and just starts walking, Yuri's clammy hand in his.

"Just for that we're getting pizza, right?" Yuri mutters.

Otabek glances at him, but Yuri is staring straight ahead, face still flushed. It seems like a good strategy. "If you want pizza, we can have pizza," he says.

The way back to the apartment complex never seemed so short.


End file.
